[Quinn 04] - The Silenced

Quinn closed his eyes for a second to focus his thoughts. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

“Look. I get it. This isn’t about a job. This is your family. This is about as personal as it can get. But I’m part of your team, Quinn. So that means it’s just as personal for me.”

“Thanks.”

“Shall we do this?”

Quinn tried to think if there was anything else he needed to tell his apprentice beyond what he’d already filled him in on while they were at the hotel. “Liz’s anger toward me is deserved,” Quinn said. “Don’t judge her by that.”

“Judge her? Hell, if anything, I’m going to be sympathetic.”

“Let’s go over your legend again,” Quinn said, ignoring Nate’s attempt at humor.

With a sigh, Nate said, “I’m a son of a colleague. Traveling around Europe for a few months before starting grad school in January.”

“What school?”

“UCLA.”

“In?”

“History. Just like my undergrad degree.”

“Go on.”

“Since you were in Paris on business, your colleague asked you to check on me. I arrived in town today, so I decided to hang with you for a few hours, secretly hoping for a free meal. Since we were close to your sister’s apartment, you thought we should stop by. How’s that?”

“How much do you know about me?”

“Very little. You’ve done business with my father. He works at Bank of America. I don’t know which bank you work for, and I don’t even know what you do. I hate the banking business, so don’t pay much attention.”

Quinn nodded.

“Anything else you want to know?” Nate asked.

“What’s your name?”

“Nate.”

Quinn’s eyes opened wide.

“Relax,” Nate said, holding his hands up. “My name’s Andrew Cain. My father’s Andrew also, so that would make me Junior, but I never use the Junior. My friends sometimes call me Andy. My really close friends call me A.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “A?”

“Makes me sound cool.”

“Makes you sound stupid.”

“Matter of opinion.”

Quinn stood up. “All right. Then let’s go, A.”

“I said my close friends.”

FOUR MINUTES LATER NATE AND QUINN STOOD at the door to Liz’s apartment. From inside they could hear music.

Jazz? Quinn wondered.

He listened a moment longer.

Miles Davis. “How Deep Is the Ocean.” One of Quinn’s favorites.

“You all right?” Nate whispered.

As way of answer, Quinn raised his hand to knock on the door. But he hesitated, wondering again if this might be a mistake. Maybe a perimeter stakeout would be best. Liz could go on as she always did, completely unaware of his presence.

Or maybe I’m just making excuses.

He let his hand rap against the door three times, then took a step back.

There was no indication from inside that someone had heard him.

Quinn knocked again.

“Une minute, s’il vous plait.” Liz’s voice, distant.

“You ready?” Quinn whispered.

“I am. Are you?” Nate asked.

From beyond the door, he could hear the soft thud of feet on carpet, then the knob turned, and with little